Tired
by TF141Soldier
Summary: The incinerator of delusion and the deluded alike. Eridan's thoughts during his breakdown and subsequent rampage. Oneshot!


**Wrote this upon request!**

 **[*****]**

Eridan Ampora, the violet-blooded Prince of Hope, was tired. In fact, he was downright exhausted.

He was tired of Sollux's bullshit. That arrogant, presumptuous, ochre-blooded little shit had been bugging him for weeks, and everything about him just pissed Eridan off to the ends of Alternia and back. He _loathed_ Sollux. Everything, be it his annoying lisp, or that smug, toothy, oh-so-clever little grin he always bore whenever he had the upper hand, or how easily he took Princess Feferi Peixes away ( _snatched her right under my fuckin' nose_ ). And this wasn't a hate-fuck, _kismesis_ kind of odium, like what he had with Vriska; this was pure, unadulterated revulsion.

The kind that makes you want to resort to murder.

The penny-ante duels he'd had with Sollux in the past were just pride-fueled scraps, mere rough-housing compared to the face-off they were having now. Sollux even broke out his fucking psionics, the esper powers that made his eyes light up and pulse with heaving energy. It was serious business. Not that any of that mattered.

Feferi screamed at the two rivals to stop, that it just wasn't the time for them to be dueling. She didn't get it. She never did fucking _get it_. Eridan had looked out for her practically his entire life, had shielded her from the horrors of the world, preserved her fucking innocence as best he could, and she tossed him aside like he meant nothing to her. Like their moirallegience had never fucking happened. Like someone as inferior as Sollux was worthier of her attention than the Prince of _fucking_ Hope himself.

He wasn't sure why he'd asked her to join him in his hunt for Jack Noir. A hope for reconnection, maybe. To get her away from Sollux, probably. Not that it mattered. She called him a coward for resorting to such an option – as if what he was doing wasn't fucking charitable, it was a sacrifice if anything – and decided to revoke their "frondship", as if she hadn't already done that by running into the arms of that bipolar _nimrod_.

 _Consider the feeling mutual, princess._

Sollux removed his stupid glasses, placing them atop his scalp. He began charging up a psionic blast, powerful enough to make him hover in midair.

" _I 2hould have killed you on LOBAF."_

Eridan took one look at his cape and discarded it, flinging it aside. He was tired of that cumbersome, fuchsia-colored piece of shit. He'd finally realized his destiny. No need for that anymore.

Eridan drew his wand.

 _You really should havve, you fuckin' chump._

The world was a wash of red, blue, and white as the rivals' beams of energy collided. The wand was absolutely writhing with energy, enough to make Eridan's hair stand on edge. He began to sweat profusely, struggling to keep control of his wand.

Sollux was going to win. Again.

And he'd smirk, and laugh at Eridan. Again.

Only this time, he'd have Feferi to laugh with him.

Just like everyone else, she betrayed him. Just like everyone else, she looked at him with fear, and mistrust. With hate. Just like everyone else, she was tired of him.

Eridan didn't even notice that he was gaining the upper hand on Sollux. His rage was mounting.

Sweeps upon sweeps spent tiredly killing countless hordes of lusii, risking his damn life, to keep Feferi's monster of a lusus vaguely satisfied: all for nothing.

Weeks spent murdering endless hordes of angels, piercing the sky with the cries of their rages, day and night, just to make a dent in this fucking game, just to impress her with his determination: all for nothing.

A seemingly endless sum of sweeps spent as her attentive moirail, knowing that he wanted more, but wisely, and almost religiously, respecting her boundaries: all for nothing.

All for nothing. Nothing.

There wasn't a damn troll on Alternia pleased with him. They were all fucking tired of him.

But she wanted nothing to do with him.

Eridan roared and he felt an incredible surge of anger consume his entire being, his very core. He felt that uncontrollable wrath stream through his wand, creating an incredible outburst of energy that practically tore Sollux to shreds. With a strangled cry, Sollux was flung against the wall. By the time Eridan realized that he'd won the duel, that he'd finally – finally – dominated Sollux, Sollux had been knocked unconscious, a smear of blood aligning the crater-shaped dent Sollux had made in the wall.

He finally won. He was all-powerful. It was orgasmic.

But his work wasn't finished. He lifted his wand once more, prepared to finish the job once and for-fucking-all, but Feferi got in the way, practically tackling Sollux's body as she sprang to check his vitals.

"Sollux?!" She cried, as if it would have any effect whatsoever.

Eridan clenched his wand, practically boring a hole through Feferi's back with his glare.

He was tired of being rejected by her.

He was tired of being hated by her.

Feferi whipped around, giving Eridan a suitably nasty glare. She looked beyond enraged. Practically foaming at the fucking mouth. She gripped her trident and sprang for him, intent on gutting Eridan like the fish that he was.

It was over in an instant.

Eridan blinked, half-expecting to feel a trident in his gut. He was perfectly okay; not a drip of blood on his clothes. He smelt blood, though.

Feferi's blood, to be precise. The princess limply fell back onto the horn pile, her eyes distant and milky. It didn't take a brainiac to know Feferi was dead.

It was over in an instant.

Feferi was just another Angel.

Eridan's, to be precise.

Eridan inhaled and exhaled through his nose sharply, his mind a whirlwind of angry, uncoordinated thought. He raised his wand, aiming it at Sollux, and would have gone through with it had he not heard the sound of nervous footsteps behind him.

And then Eridan realized where he was. He was in the lab. Kanaya and Karkat had stumbled on him… no. That's not right. They'd witnessed everything. They'd tried to stop him. Karkat was just sort of gawking at Sollux, his hands feebly shaking after witnessing Eridan's onslaught. Kanaya, however, was a little bit more alert than that. She glared at Eridan, her makeupkind in hand.

And then Eridan was tired again.

He didn't want to kill her. His score was not with her.

 _They were alone in the computer lab. It was almost kind of romantic, the two of them meeting up for a rendezvous like that. Although, it wasn't, not really. This was strictly business. Kanaya had promised to give him some dirt on Rose, the bitch that blew up his computer, and Eridan was eager for some payback._

 _He was, however, surprised when Kanaya placed a wand in his hand. A genuine white wand, the kind of things Eridan had seen in_ _magic_ _(science) books and fiction. Presumably, the same kind of wand Rose destroyed Eridan's husk-top with._

"… _A wwand? Kan, howw'd you manage to make somefin like this?" Eridan queried, testing to see how it felt in his hands. He could feel the power coursing through his hands already. Could picture it._

 _Kanaya gave an elegant little shrug, a smile playing at her lips. "I Have My Ways." She didn't want to discuss the code, or the grist cost, or anything. Mysterious, mysterious. "But This Is The Basis Of All Of Rose's… Secrets, For Lack Of A Better Word."_

" _Shit, Kan. First you're basically the royal fuckin' stylist, considerin' you mend my scarvves and cape and shit, and noww you're offerin' me a wwhite science wwand. Howw much you wwant for it?"_

 _She merely shook her head. "Consider It A Gift."_

" _No, seriously, wwhat the fuck do you wwant for it? I havve tons of treasure from my pirate days just hangin' around. That shit probably sells for stacks of boondollars."_

" _I Mean It," Kanaya said, turning towards the Transportalizer. "Just Be Sure To Practice With It As Often As You Can. We Wouldn't Want You To Be Inexperienced In The Magic Arts."_

" _Science, Kan, wwe discussed this."_

 _She left after politely saying goodbye, and although Eridan didn't want to admit it out loud… the wand was fucking cool. And it felt… liberating._

 _He felt like he could change the world with its' power._

She showed faith in him when seemingly nobody else did. She listened to him when nobody else would.

But now she was in his way.

They glared at each other, neither one daring to make the first move.

The Transportalizer was maybe six or seven strides away from Eridan. But Kanaya was right beside it. She would get him before he even had the chance to abscond.

Eridan looked for a distraction, anything. She took a nervous glance at the spiky ball beside her feet. What had she called it? Matriorb or some such? She seemed pretty attached to it.

That would do for now. A slim ray of energy fired from Eridan's wand, destroying the Matriorb in one fell swoop.

Kanaya stared at the remnants, the horror naked in her eyes.

She screamed, her makeupkind quickly transforming into her chainsaw. Eridan had forced her hand. There was no time to react. The chainsaw roared to life and she sprang for him with a mighty leap, her eyes strained with rage.

Seconds later, Kanaya fell. She was dead.

Eridan didn't have the heart to even glance at Karkat, paralyzed with fear and shock. He didn't want to think about what he just did. He was tired and wanted out of there.

Eridan stepped onto the transportalizer. He would find the prophesied "lord of all angels", that Jack Noir bastard, soon enough.

There was a score to settle first.

[*****]

The angels had spoken to him. They told him about the prophecies, because he was the only one that could hear them. They told him all about the lord of angels, about his seemingly inevitable rampage.

Eventually, Eridan couldn't stand listening to them anymore. He was tired of their chattering.

They told him he would die, unfulfilled, unloved, and forgotten, all of his grandiose, royal ambitions and dreams washed away in their lord's bloody crusade.

But he was the Prince of Hope, and his destiny – nay, the world's destiny – was determined by him and him alone.

It didn't matter to Eridan that he was rejecting his fate. Not anymore. He was tired of being a Prince, anyway.

Almost nothing mattered anymore to Eridan. All that was left was survival and revenge. And from the charred remains of his apocalyptic grudge against the world would he build a brand new destiny, one that outdistanced and outshined even that of Dualscar's.

Deep inside the core, he finally found Vriska.

After all these years, here they were, face-to-face, once again.

She looked tired. Her hair was longer, messier; she looked thin, more so than she always had been, anyways. And she had the look of someone that had left behind a trail of mistakes in her wake.

Or bodies.

Vriska gave Eridan a cloying little smirk, one that neatly masked her surprise. "Hey, Amporaaaaaaaa. _Black_ for more?"

The past came rushing back to him. The days of lost treasure, of lost islands and distant lands, of open-sea combat between two mighty vessels (those of "Mindfang" and "Dualscar"), of bitter, black romance betwixt the two young trolls. The days when Eridan thought he'd discovered his destiny.

He found his cape on a deserted island, decked with overgrowth and enormous vegetation. Presumably it was the leftovers of a poor sap that had dared to venture into the jungle without being prepared. It almost assuredly belonged to an Imperial, considering the color.

It was a beautiful cape. It reminded Eridan of _him_. He had Kanaya piece it back together after hunting high and low for some violet thread, and the moment she returned it back to him, in pristine condition, he almost never took the damn thing off. He felt mighty with a high-collared cape like that. He felt like he was on top of the world.

 _But that wwas nevver my destiny._

That was then.

Vriska squared her shoulders, narrowing her eyes. The faintest hint of a smirk danced on her icy, blue lips.

Eridan glanced at his wand.

" _And wwith my empiricist's wwand, I servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike…"_

He was tired of being weak. He'd wished for power, and he'd gotten it on a silver fucking platter.

"… _my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels."_

He was tired of pretending.

He was tired of having no hope despite his title. He didn't want to be a Prince of Hope if everything was hopeless.

He was tired of being powerless.

" _and wwhen they're finished wweepin'…"_

Eridan gripped his wand, and he felt it hum with power.

And somehow, the faintest, most distant of smiles graced his face as he returned Vriska's stare.

"…They wwill boww before their Prince."


End file.
